


Saccharine

by ivanolix



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Afterlife, Angels, F/M, Married Couple, Post-Canon, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-04
Updated: 2009-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remedies in the afterife are sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saccharine

Kara groaned, shifting on the bed, but realizing that it was her body that wasn’t comfortable and nothing she did to the bed would help. So she just collapsed back against the pillow, feeling her fever raging, and hating the weakness in her limbs and the way her hair was sticking damply to her flushed cheeks.

Sam came into the field of her vision, walking through the door with a cup of something in his hand.

She groaned again, and something caught in her throat and made her cough. She winced as pain shot through her head.

“Still fighting, I see,” Sam said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and thankfully leaving all but the barest sympathy from his voice.

“For an afterlife, this feels a bit too much like real life,” she rasped. “Disease? What the frak?”

“Hmm,” Sam said. He’d brought a rag too, and as she lay back against the pillow he pulled the damp strands of hair from her face, a blissful coolness spreading as he gently wiped the sweat from her face. “You know what Leoben says?”

She looked up at his face. They called the angel that, even though it wasn’t his true name. It was just easier that way.

“He said,” Sam continued, “that one can’t enjoy pleasure without the possibility of pain instead.”

She grimaced as he changed both tone and look to match her old enemy. “Stop that,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut to wipe the picture, and slapping at his shoulder with her hand. She coughed again, and gritted her teeth in frustration.

“I brought you some soup,” he offered.

“Frak, Sam, I can’t eat anything,” she said, not opening her eyes. “My throat is killing me—and it’s too hot.”

“Ah, then I know what you need,” she heard him murmur. The bed shifted, and she felt his lips press against her forehead for a second before he rose to leave. They were too hot, and she silently cursed her illness for taking the pleasure from that too.

She might have dozed in those few minutes that he was gone, opening her eyes as she heard him come back, this time with a bowl in his hand. “What is that?” she asked, this time not coughing.

“Something cold and smooth,” he said, smiling and sitting next to her again. “And sweet, so everything you’re not right now.”

She didn’t have the strength to glare, and he knew it. But his words belied his true intentions, and she decided to give them a fair chance. “What is it?”

“Ice cream,” he answered, holding the bowl to her.

She’d never eaten the stuff in her real life, but the sight of the cold white blobs was insanely attractive to her in this state. Gods, how she hated being sick, it weakened everything about her. Moving just a little, she took the proffered bowl. She closed her eyes, and tasted a small spoonful.

The creamy taste flooded her mouth, washing the taste of sickness far from her memory, and a pleasant chill ran through her. One bite of ice cream made her feel as if she’d won a battle against the fever. And as irrational as that was, she didn’t care. She savored another bite, eyes still closed.

“Good?” Sam asked.

She nodded. “Thank you.” Her hand trembled a little, and the ice cream dripped down onto her neck. She breathed through her teeth, but the cold felt good anyway.

“Whoops,” Sam said. “Here, I got that.”

She didn’t feel like protesting when he took the bowl from her hand, and then gasped a little as she felt his finger wipe the drop of ice cream from her neck. After the cooling of the ice cream, his finger almost sent its usual electric charge through her. She opened her eyes, looking up into his face and seeing the warmth in his eyes. He licked the ice cream from his finger, with almost a smile.

“Tease,” she accused, then coughed.

“I don’t have to let it happen again, if you let me feed you,” he suggested.

“Absolutely not,” she said, taking the bowl back from him. “You only get to take advantage of me when I’m well enough to benefit.”

“Then I need to nurse you back to health even more than before,” he purred.

“Damn right,” she muttered, taking a spoonful of the criminally delicious food. She swallowed with a relaxed sigh.


End file.
